The Tale of Princess Kaguya
by vietblueart
Summary: 9th - 10th Cen. AD: In the golden age of Heian, the man named Fujiwara-no-Kiku acts as a member of the imperial line and advisor to the Emperor. But all the while, he has to keep hidden his true identity as personification of the land of the rising sun. Things start to become complicated, however, when one night he discovers a tiny baby girl within a bamboo stalk.
1. Bamboo Shoots

筍

_Takenoko_

**Bamboo Shoots**

* * *

"Look, look! It is His Grace!"

"Oh! His Majesty's personal advisor…?"

"Oh, but they did not exaggerate at all! He really is so handsome and kind-looking…"

"Hush, he will hear us!"

Kiku listened to the gentlewomen whispering behind the blinds, and sighed lightly. They tittered amongst themselves and stole furtive glances at him as he passed by; their colorful sleeves peeped out from under the blinds, a rainbow of silks. When he looked over to nod at them, smiling politely, they giggled and modestly averted their eyes, hiding painted faces behind their fans or their hands. Even as he continued on his way, he could feel curious gazes peering after him and boring into his back.

It was not good, however, for him to be seen in this way — but then in truth, it was hard to hide oneself completely when one lives in the Greater Palace, where the nobility and high aristocrats as well as their plethora of servants thrived. There, rarely was one ever truly alone. Fujiwara-no-Kiku was thus unusual in that he was almost never accompanied by an escort, nor a group of servant women.

Though considering who — or what — he truly was, that was the wiser choice.

So he walked alone out of the inner palace, heading towards the eastern gate. A palm-leaf ox carriage waited for him there, attended by four grooms, along with a young boy who looked perhaps twelve years old. This boy, he realized, was his escort, meaning the boy was to be the announcer who preceded the cart and declare the procession's presence so that passerby could make way. Kiku sighed. The Emperor was going out of his way for him again. Not that Kiku didn't understand the necessity of it, as it would look odd if a nobleman had no escort. But still, he preferred more anonymity, to call as little attention to himself as possible. An escort boy shouting his presence was hardly inconspicuous.

He exhaled softly and approached the carriage, the grooms and the escort jumping to attention when he did. They made a lovely sight, dressed in silks dyed exquisitely in light blue and violet. But they paled in comparison to his richer, more aristocratic clothing; whereas the servitors wore mere servant dress (dignified, yes, but not so opulent), he wore the court dress of a nobleman. Although not the full formal dress for ceremony, it was still an extremely noble look, with a leaf-green dress cloak tied over a gown and shift, and yellow gathered trousers. The colors he wore were known as "maidenflower layering," and suited the summer season well. Topped off with a formal _kanmuri_ cap, it was clear this man was not from the lower ranks of the aristocracy.

Kiku greeted the grooms and inclined his head towards the boy (who could not have bowed lower if the Emperor himself had come by), then stepped into the carriage. One of the grooms reached over to undo the cord that held the blinds up. With a whispery sound, the bamboo blinds descended and Kiku found himself enclosed in a small, shaded space, sweetly perfumed from incense. After a few more seconds of bustle, the ox lowed and the cart started forward with a mild lurch. They were on their way.

Kiku leaned on one of the cart's silk cushions and heaved a sigh. Finally, he could relax a little. Within the palace and among all the powerful nobles, he had to make a constant, conscious effort to keep them from finding out too much about him. Which was no small feat, considering the number of social gatherings they had, and the like. Even the monks were less reclusive than him.

He watched the world go by from the little window as they left the Greater Palace, heading into the city. Outside the palace, outside the sprawling walls of prosperity, he could see them. The men with skin browned from the harsh sun, with hands rough and callused from manual labor. The peasant women who sat selling rice, babies strapped to their backs as they called out their wares. The beggars who slept by the roadside, faces dusty beneath their rags. The children who ran after his cart, laughing and barefoot, their little feet blackened with filth. When he extended out a hand to wave at them, they pointed at his brocade sleeves, eyes wide with delight and wonder.

The weariness in his young face softened.

It was not just the noblemen behind their walls of gold and silk who were his people. These tired farmers and suffering beggars were his people, too.

* * *

The cart continued on and eventually left the city, leaving behind the children with callused feet. All the noise and bustle quieted down until only the sound of wind in the trees remained. He gave a sigh through his nose and closed his eyes. This was peace. Even the unsteady rattling of the cart did not bother him. Nothing could touch him. The scent of the air, perfumed only by clouds and sky. A breeze murmuring through the tall grass. The rustle of the trees' branches, unseen birds singing in their boughs.

This was his land.

This was his being.

This was Kiku's very reason for existence.

The carriage went on rattling, and he exhaled softly.

He was headed towards a place very special to him, somewhere he went when he thought he'd had enough of palace life. It was an almost holy place, he felt, with a sacredness that did not come from any sort of faith or religion. Yes, it was something else that made this place feel so sacrosanct. He just couldn't name it. Perhaps that was all right.

The ride there took two days, during which Kiku's procession stopped at two different temples for food and rest. Each time the monks welcomed them, serving them wine and _suihan_, rice chilled in cold water for the summer heat. Under his grooms' prompting, Kiku also requested a short service of penance, so that they might pray for his safe travels; to thank them, he donated swaths of rich silk to the temples. The chanted prayers of the monks and the temple bell's somnolent toll followed him as he continued to the east.

Finally, on the early evening of the third day, they arrived. The grooms halted the ox and pushed open the blinds for Kiku to emerge. The wind swirled as if to greet him, bringing with it an earthy fragrance. It seemed as if the very air was tinted jade green, and Kiku had to stop to admire it, his dress cloak fluttering in the breeze.

It was a bamboo forest he stood in, and a most beautiful one at that.

"Will you take the carriage to the mountain temple? I am sure that the holy man will understand if you tell him I have lingered to admire the bamboo."

There was another temple not far off from the bamboo forest, though it could hardly be called that. It was much smaller than the two they had stayed at, to the point of resembling a secluded hovel above anything. An ascetic lived there, alone, and when sent a letter he had replied welcoming their company. Kiku had little doubt he would not mind if the nobleman spent some time in the beautiful forest.

In any case, his party also understood but refused. "Night is almost upon us, my lord. Even here there is the danger of bandits," said one of the grooms — apparently the highest-ranking. "It would be best if we wait for you and then take you up to the temple, Your Grace."

A small smile fell across Kiku's face and he nodded once. However, he did ask that they wait at the forest edge; he preferred to be alone in the midst of such beauty. They agreed, and watched as he roamed into the bamboo.

Unnameable birds flitted back and forth above his head, their voices high and pure, their shadows flickering quickly across the ground. The moon was rising, its pale outline shone through the slender leaves. The entire forest was lit blue-green by the brightening moonlight; to the west, the sky was streaked with gold and orange that deepened into indigo as one turned towards the east.

He inhaled the cool air deeply. Yes, there was a truly holy quality to this place. It was really quite unreasonable how he thought so (would he think the same for other bamboo forests?) but he couldn't help it. The towering stalks that appeared to be of jade, the sweet air, the hollow whistle of wind through bamboo — he couldn't help but love it.

It was while thinking such thoughts that he turned, and saw the glowing stalk.

"What…?" He blinked, then looked again. It _was_ glowing! A single stalk of bamboo, just slightly bigger than those around it, seemed to emit a soft, golden light from within. It didn't fade as he cautiously approached it; in fact he thought the light grew brighter. His hands dropped to the sword hanging at his waist. The blade was intended for ceremony, really, but that did not mean it was not sharp. He unsheathed it and knelt by the glowing bamboo, never taking his eyes off it.

Bamboo was known for its resilience, the range of its use and the strength of its wood. Yet to Kiku's surprise, it was remarkably easy to cut through the stalk, even though it was as wide as his outstretched hand. Indeed, one stroke of his blade was all it took to cut it down. The bamboo shuddered under his sword and, slowly, tilted sideways, falling to the ground with an almost dramatic slowness.

There was a soft _thud_ when it fell, the impact causing stray leaves to fly up into the air. In the moonlight, the leaves appeared like strips of shadow.

Kiku sheathed his sword slowly, eyes on the bamboo stalk. The light continued to glow, but it was dying down now, and he could make out an image within its depths. No, wait — he drew a sharp breath and his eyes widened.

It was not an image. It was a tiny figure.

The golden light faded away at last, and under the moonlight, the little figure in the stalk of bamboo seemed to glow snowy-white. And as Kiku watched, it stirred slightly, apparently waking up.

A baby girl, no bigger than his thumb, stretched out her arms and yawned, her open mouth a dot of pink on her face. She was perfect, albeit very small. Button eyes blinked open, sleepy, and with another adorable yawn, she rubbed them with tiny fists.

Kiku couldn't say a word, utterly stunned. But then suddenly, the tiny baby rolled over and began to tip out of the stalk. With a frightened gasp, Kiku's hands shot out to catch her. She landed neatly into the palms of his hands, her skin as pale as his. In the moonlight, she was very delicate and very ethereal.

The tiny child stirred and curled against his thumb. Kiku blinked, then smiled a bit when he felt the littlest fingers squeeze his hand, a tiny sigh against his skin. He felt her heartbeat as a quick _tap-tap-tap_ against his palm, and he slowly clutched her close to his chest.

There was no doubt in his mind that he was holding something very, very precious.

"Ha... Hello there, little one…"


	2. Peach

_**Author's Note: Hello, everyone, and welcome to Chapter 2! Thank you so much for all your support and feedback thus far! I sincerely hope you enjoy the rest of this story. An especially special thank-you (again) to** __ClockWork Eidolon__ **for your kind words and review. X3**_

_**Just a few notes, but please know that this fanfiction takes quite a few cues from **_**The Tale of Genji_, it being my main source of reference. Therefores in this story, I have incorporated some aspects of the _Tale _to lend a further sense of an archaic age. The lack of italics in thought, for one, but in particular the lack of specific names. In _The Tale of Genji_, most characters are "named" according to certain descriptions of them or events they partake in: for example, Genji's mother is named "Kiritsubo" because she is the Emperor's Consort who lives in the Kiritsubo Palace. In this chapter, Kojin is the first example of that — she is described to wear robes fragranced with aloeswood incense. Her name means "little aloeswood." Cool, huh? XD_**

* * *

桃

_Momo_

**Peach**

* * *

Upon his return to the Greater Palace, Kiku went to his personal residence straightaway. A fine house that sprawled beside a lovely garden lake, the guard at the gate nodded a greeting which Kiku returned as they passed through. The ox carriage stopped before the middle gate and he disembarked. He sighed; the journey was finally done. With a few words the grooms were dismissed, and as he headed inside the house, they set to work unyoking the ox and setting up the shaft bench on which they would rest the shafts of the carriage.

Kiku's manor was especially large, due to his claim of high birth. At once upon entering, an exquisite garden met him. Whereas most of the nobles preferred to have very lavish gardens (though still within reason), his was more subdued. A garden brook ribboned along the eastern side, and if he continued straight on he would cross a miniature bridge over it. A stone path made a trail through the garden, past knee-high bushes and meticulously arranged maidenflowers and plume grass. All this grew around a single plum tree, whose trunk was dark and grooved from age.

To the north lounged the main house, a large building connected to the east and west wings by parallel bridgeways. From each wing an open gallery stretched to the south; the west wing's gallery extended out to the garden lake, where it connected with a small fishing pavilion.

Kiku felt a wave of fondness as he looked at the house. His Umegae residence was rather empty, what with his preference for limited staff, but it was peaceful, and it was home. With a light sigh, he turned and headed towards the main house.

As he ascended the steps, his gentlewomen gathered on the veranda, bowing. "Welcome home, my lord," they said together, holding their sleeves before their faces. He smiled and nodded at them.

"It is good to be back," he agreed, and then looked at one of them. She was the head of his gentlewomen, the daughter of the Aide of the Watch and a clever young woman, if he might say so himself. Her robes were beautifully dyed and fragranced with incense made from aloeswood. Noticing him look at her, Kojin smiled behind her sleeve and bowed again.

"Do you require something of me, Your Grace?"

"Ah, yes. Will you bring me some cow's milk?" he asked, heading into the inner chamber of the main house. His gentlewomen followed but Kojin paused at his request. Puzzlement flickered across her face, visible even behind her sleeves.

"Cow's milk, my lord?" she echoed, clearly baffled. He sighed internally, although he understood her confusion. Milk was not too common in a Japanese diet, and anyway it was considered the stuff of peasants, as they were the caretakers of livestock. But he nodded.

"Yes, just a little. I've…found something that needs it." This did little to ease her confusion, but Kojin bowed and left the room nonetheless. Kiku exhaled in relief. It was good that she had not questioned any further. He wasn't exactly sure how he would explain himself otherwise.

Discreetly, making sure that none of the other gentlewomen were about, he uncovered his hands. The tiny baby girl was nestled in his palm, half-shielded by his colorful sleeve. By the light of day, she did not seem so surreal, though no less tiny. Currently, she was wrapped in a square of purple silk and seemed perfectly comfortable napping there in his hand. He gazed at her for a moment, marveling at her miniscule size as well as her artless manner.

It was charming, he had to admit, but it worried him, too. There was no question that this unassuming baby was not human, after all. Kiku wasn't too sure how he could care for her in secret.

Holding her carefully in his lap, he looked around the room. What he planned to do was feed her droplets of milk, perhaps from the wooden end of a clean brush or the corner of a silk scrap, in lieu of a nipple. That was what he had done at the mountain temple. He frowned, finding nothing useful. Perhaps if he—

At that moment he felt the baby girl stir in his hand and looked down. She _was_ indeed stirring, rolling over and stretching against his curled fingers. He smiled a little and glanced away. Then he did a double take.

Apparently, she wasn't just stretching.

She was also _growing_.

Kiku gasped and brought around his other hand to catch the baby's head as she simply became bigger. She grew at a blindingly fast rate: one moment she fit perfectly in one hand and the next, he suddenly required both arms to hold a normal-sized newborn, who scrunched up her face and began to wail right away.

"Ah—"

For a moment, he just sat there, utterly at a loss at what to do.

"Goodness, is that a child?!"

"Your Grace, you have a child with you!"

The gentlewomen came rushing to him at once, all gasping at the sight of the baby girl in his arms. The baby cried harder at the sudden sound of voices around her, which only sent the maids into further clamor.

"Why, this will not do at all!" said one of them at last. "Does anyone here have a baby as well? She needs milk!" Unfortunately, none of the others seemed to have milk. But to Kiku's great relief, Kojin returned at that moment, a ceramic bowl of milk in hand.

She was of course completely shocked. "A baby!" In her surprise she even forgot to cover her face, so Kiku could see her red lips parted as she stared at the crying child, wide-eyed. Then her brow knitted and she fixed him with a most stern look.

"And you were about to give her cow's milk, my lord! This is utterly unacceptable! Come, I've a child who is not yet weaned; I daresay there is enough for her for a while. Give her to me, my lord. Cow's milk, indeed!" she muttered. Then she seemed to remember herself and quickly raised one sleeve to conceal her face.

"Ah… But of course…" Kiku felt as though he were entirely out of his element, a fish on dry land. He glanced down at the baby in his arms who continued to weep loudly. "I will, er, go to His Majesty once your… That is, when she is weaned." An expression of utter consternation traced his face as he made to stand.

"Yes, yes, but not now!" Kojin sighed and went to take the baby from his arms. The child's voice rose in volume when she felt unfamiliar arms take hold of her, but when Kojin bared a breast and lifted the baby up, murmuring gently, she fell quiet and began to nurse. Kiku flushed and looked away with a pointed cough.

"My, but look at her drink! She is certainly a strong one," remarked a gentlewoman in a tone of approval.

"Oh, just hurry and set up a screen! His Grace is still here!" another scolded, whereupon the gentlewomen jumped and immediately set to bringing about one of the standing curtains, putting it between Kiku and themselves. Keeping his gaze on the near garden, Kiku let himself relax only when the standing curtain was in place.

From the sounds on the other side, he could tell the gentlewomen were crowded around the newborn, each cooing at the baby and openly admiring her. Kiku noticed that a few of them cast him surreptitious looks through the curtain before glancing back at the babe, as if trying to find similarities. They think it is my child! he suddenly realized with not a little horror. Whatever next! How am I supposed to explain how she doesn't have a mother? This made him especially concerned, as a father's child would not merely drop down from the sky (or appear in a stalk of bamboo, for that matter). But even though it was the truth that the baby had no mother, the nobility simply would not accept that.

And right then, he saw a layered sleeve flutter at the edge of the standing curtain, asking for his attention. "Pardon me, Your Grace," came Kojin's voice. "But you did say that you _found_this little one?"

Ah, that was right. He'd forgotten that to explain his request for cow's milk, he had told Kojin he had found something that needed it. "Yes, that is correct. She was all alone near the holy man's temple," he said. That wasn't a lie, after all.

The gentlewomen murmured among themselves at that, their tones sympathetic and curious. "What a shame, she's so lovely! She couldn't possibly be a peasant's child, could she?"

"No, no. I think she must be some nobleman's daughter! Look at these beautiful features!"

"That's right. Maybe her father had an affair and left her to cover it up!"

"Hmm, perhaps not. Her mother surely wouldn't have gone through with it…"

"You never know! Haven't you heard the story of the orphan they found on the shore of Suma…!"

They continued on like this for some time until finally, Kojin exclaimed with exasperation, "Enough of your gossip! No matter this child's story, it is simply too fortunate His Grace was there to find her and bring her here! If this child is to stay with us, then we must do what we can to raise her well. Clearly Amida wishes for us to do so, or else he would not have put her in our lord's way as he did."

No one could argue with this, and the younger gentlewomen ceased with their gossip. Kiku hid a small smile at Kojin's assertive mannerisms. He wouldn't say so out loud — no need for others to misunderstand — but he rather liked that about her. With this in mind, he suddenly asked, "Perhaps then, Mistress of my Household, you would like to be her nurse?"

There was a moment of surprised silence. He couldn't see Kojin's face, but he could clearly imagine her stunned expression before she recovered and spoke, reprovingly. "My lord! You cannot be serious. I have been in your service since I was but a page girl. I can hardly abandon my post all of a sudden!" Despite the fact a standing curtain separated them, Kiku could feel her baleful gaze burning right through it. She had good reason to be worried; Kojin was among the few who knew what Kiku truly was...

Still, he was adamant that she be the child's nurse. Not only was she the lone one among his gentlewomen who could nurse the baby, but he did not want another person coming into the household and thus further risk his secret being exposed. Ten servants lived with him at the Umegae residence, including Kojin, and excluding the grooms and pages and escorts. Things were precarious enough already.

Seeing how determined he was, after a minute, Kojin wavered a little. "Well… I suppose the Captain's daughter might do well in taking the post… You would, wouldn't you? I've taught you many things about running the household."

"Oh yes, madam! I can be a good Mistress!" was the eager reply. In his mind, Kiku connected the slightly nasal voice to a gentlewoman ranking just below Kojin: Chūjō, the daughter of a certain Captain. Yes, she was a good choice, very able. Kiku breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's settled then. You will care for her well, I'm sure."

"Oh, Your Grace, do not compliment me so!" But he could hear the pleased note in Kojin's voice. Kiku had to smile.

For some time the women continued to fuss over the baby, some of them remarking about her perfectly formed hands and feet, others discussing clothing for her. Then a young woman asked abruptly, "Ah, my lord! What will the child's name be?"

"Her name?" He blinked, suddenly remembering the name he had mentally given her during the stay at the bamboo forest. Meanwhile, Kojin had already begun rebuking the gentlewoman.

"Don't be so hasty. A name is not given without careful thought, and our lord has only had her for a few days—"

"I thought of the name Kaguya…"

It took a second for the name to sink in, each person testing it in their mind, feeling the sound of it.

"Kaguya…"

"Ah, well, actually, _Nayotake-no-Kaguya_ was the name I came up with for her," Kiku elaborated. It was a fitting name, so he thought, and the somewhat imperious air of it seemed apt.

He heard silk rustle and on the standing curtain, Kojin's shadow moved in time as she nodded slowly. "Yes, that seems a fine name. And as for her lineage…"

The gentlewomen suddenly tittered. "Ahh, it is a little Princess we have! A lovely Princess!" they exclaimed, and swarmed around the nursing baby again, fussing over her adoringly. Kiku sat thoughtfully. They were not wrong about what the baby's lineage would be: he was not only the Emperor's personal advisor — an exceedingly unusual post, like a high-ranking cross between Minister and Adviser Consultant — but also a member of the imperial Fujiwara clan and, as named by his predecessor, a Prince. (Of course, he _was_ his own predecessor, since he had faked his own natural death more times than he could count.)

But since he was apparently now a father, that meant that his daughter was a Princess.

"Nayotake-no-Kaguya-hime," he murmured under his breath, and peered through a gap in the standing curtain. Kojin was cradling the baby girl very tenderly, the gentlewomen gathered round; the newborn had fallen fast asleep, her little head resting against Kojin's chest. Kiku smiled.

"_In seeking respite within the grove, instead I chance upon  
__the princess of flexible bamboo scattering light_."


	3. Spirit

_**Author's Note: Hello there and welcome to the third chapter! It's winter break now so hopefully I'll have more time to write and with hope, Chapter 4 can be uploaded soon! But anyway, I've recently been able to watch the new Studio Ghibli film "The Tale of Princess Kaguya," and it was AMAZING. I recommend it to EVERYONE, seriously! I think I'll be keeping an eye on Takahata for new works for sure! X3 Anyways, enjoy the chapter!**_

* * *

霊

_Rei_

**Spirit**

* * *

The birth ceremony was insisted upon by Kiku's gentlewomen, who decided from Kaguya's small size and looks that she could not have been more than a few days old. Thus, they said, a proper ceremony must be held to celebrate her arrival, however unusual it had been. Kiku was rather reluctant, not wanting to draw so much attention, but that would have ended up being far more conspicuous and so he had gone on to set up the occasion himself. It was beautifully elaborate: many members of the court came to offer their congratulations, and the traditional dagger presented to the baby girl had a gilded hilt, inlaid with a jewel. As he looked on, Kiku couldn't help the pride that swelled in his chest.

"Ah, a fine babe, a fine babe indeed!" His Majesty held the baby Kaguya in his arms, gazing down at her with an admiring smile. The Emperor and Kiku sat together in the southern aisle of the main house. He was but a few years older than Kiku's physical age of seventeen; however, he was a magnificent sight in his robes of dark scarlet. "Already I can see the noble lady she will become.

_Though now she is a mere bud on the branch, perhaps in time  
__there will be a beauty to rival that Emperor's infatuation._" (1)

Kiku smiled. "Such praise from Your Majesty is seen only once in many years. I am flattered."

Deeper within the rooms, Kiku's gentlewomen tittered faintly, clearly pleased with the Emperor's compliments. The two-year-old Crown Prince was playing around his father and Kiku, tugging at their sleeves and babbling. Dressed in robes of pale scarlet, over white silk gauze, he was a very handsome toddler. Kiku picked him up and placed him in his lap, where the boy squealed in delight and pulled on the front of Kiku's robe happily.

"Haha, you make me sound like a stuffy old man when you say things like that!" laughed His Majesty. "But I cannot help but wonder, my friend, how on earth such a lovely girl came to be. Nor how you will protect her from the prying eyes to come."

His Majesty was young, yes, but he was wise, and the gaze he angled at Kiku was sharp.

Kiku sighed deeply. "That _is_ something that worries me… Without the proper support of a maternal family, I am not sure if they will accept her as a true Princess." Earlier he had quietly explained to the Emperor the details of Kaguya's appearance, to which His Majesty had listened silently.

"Well, so long as they know you — the father — to be of the imperial lineage, as well as my personal adviser, they cannot say much. Whatever rumors there will be might stay as rumors. And besides! If they should ever see her, they can hardly doubt she is of noble blood. I hope you don't mind if I say she has an extraordinary distinction of face."

As if she had understood him, the baby gurgled happily and lifted her hands, wrapping little fingers around the Emperor's bearded chin. Kiku disguised his laugh as a cough, although soon His Majesty was shaking with laughter himself. The Crown Prince babbled for attention and grabbed at Kiku's cypress-wood fan. The Nation chuckled and lifted it out of the toddler's reach. His Majesty noticed and grinned.

"Haha, it seems that somehow, both our children have gotten switched!" The two men laughed as they exchanged hands, Kiku setting the Crown Prince in His Majesty's lap and taking the Princess from his arms. The girl grabbed his fingers to mouth them, drooling. He smiled and wiped at her chin; he paid no attention to how the Emperor was watching them with eyes twinkling fondly.

"You said you have named her, haven't you?"

"Ah, yes. Her name is Nayotake-no-Kaguya," Kiku said with a nod. In his arms the baby Princess squirmed and fell against his chest. He had to drop his hands to catch her around the waist. The Emperor held his own son and chortled.

"My, but that is a good name! It fits her, a young Princess," he remarked. Kiku inclined his head, smiling.

"Your praise honors me, Your Majesty," was all he said in reply, but the way he held Kaguya spoke more. He cradled her head with his other hand and continued to let her suck on his fingers. She seemed to enjoy his presence, and snuggled deeper into his arms, yawning. For the ceremony Kojin and the other gentlewomen had dressed her in a silk gown of kerria rose coloring, and it suited her well. She really is a little Princess, isn't she, he thought to himself.

His Majesty had never seen such a gentle smile on Kiku's face before.

"_What might be stronger in eroding earthen walls than  
__the waters of a new father's love for his silk-dressed child?_"

* * *

That night the lattice shutters were all closed, and the lamps cast flickering shadows on the walls and gauzy curtains. One such lamp was propped up within Kiku's curtained bed. He sat with the drapes open so he could look out and see the gentlewomen's sleeping forms. However, his gaze tended to remain on the scrolls and parchment strewn around him. With a heavy sigh, he set down his brush to rub at his eyes.

There was so much to do. The issues of the realm not only pervaded the papers around him but his very mind as well. He _was_ the realm, after all. Every problem that involved the declining economy, of the common people who were suffering to get by every day, they were always on him. A constant burden he could feel on his shoulders, like invisible but heavy hands. And every day he lived here, in the Greater Palace, surrounded by prosperity and riches and haughty nobles, guilt coiled tight inside his chest. It was a snake, a venomous snake — and whenever he went outside the walls, it bit him again and again when he saw his peasants eking out a living on the streets.

What could he do to help them? What could he do?

Kiku was about to pick up his brush when a chill ran down his back. He drew in a shuddering breath and his fingers curled in the air. A cold draft seemed to blow through the room, swaying the standing curtains. But that made no sense. It was the peak of summer. This frigid air was illogical.

He nearly upturned his documents upon jumping to his feet. The bed curtains were shoved out of the way as he ran from the room. Kaguya, and the gentlewomen appointed to her care, resided in the east wing of the Umegae residence; he slammed open the double doors leading to the bridgeway connecting the main house to that wing. He made it just in time to see a white figure slip into the building, skirts trailing with disconcerting silence.

Is it after Kaguya?! Kiku rushed after the figure, slapping aside the blinds. Why did all the gentlewomen continue to sleep? Didn't they hear his footsteps, sense the wrongness of the air? Maybe something is wrong with them, he thought. A flickering lamp caught his attention then.

Kojin lay to the side, sleeve under her cheek as she slumbered. The white figure was kneeling, bent over as it picked up a tiny form. Kiku's breath hitched when he realized it was holding Kaguya, who squirmed and made soft sleep-noises.

He dashed forward to rip the child out of the figure's hold, realizing as he did so that even though the spirit had been able to pick up the baby, his hands went right through the translucent arms. Kiku gripped the baby to his chest as he landed on his side, knocking his breath from him. But he held Kaguya against him and turned to look at the spirit, gasping as the baby in his arms began to wail.

It was a woman. Her wispy robes were a glowing white, as were her skin and headdress. She was beautiful, incredibly beautiful, and even Kiku found himself staring in awe. Her hair was long and jet-black, and flowed down over her train and onto the floor as she straightened up. Dark eyes lingered on Kiku's face while she slowly unfolded something from her hands.

The woman held several robes, sewn from pale beaten silks and embroidered gorgeously. They were all miniature-sized, and Kiku clutched Kaguya against him when he realized who they were intended for. Her little fists pushed feebly on his chest and she continued to sob in bewilderment.

"Who are you?" he whispered. The woman did not answer. She did, however, kneel to lay the silk robes on the floor, arranging them neatly. Her porcelain face was unreadable as she shuffled back to bow. Then with a swift motion, she stood and turned to leave. The robes she left behind seemed to glow as she did. Kiku swallowed; his throat was dry.

"Who is _she_ then?"

She paused at that, looking back at him. There was something in her eyes, Kiku could tell, but he couldn't decipher it. The ghostly noblewoman remained silent, only gazing at him and the crying baby for a minute longer, then she turned away.

It was unnerving how silent her departure was. There was no sound of a blind being brushed away, a lattice shutter opened — the chilly air seeping back into summer warmth was the sole indication of her leaving. Kiku let out his breath in a heavy gust and looked down at Kaguya. She was crying very loudly now, in earnest, face scrunched up and hands curled into fists. The Nation cringed and tried to rock her, voice lowering into a hushed murmur.

"There, there, it's all right. It's just me, I'm here, I'm sorry. Shh, it's all right…" He wiped her face with the sleeve of his robe and whispered gently. She seemed to understand him, or at least to take comfort in the sound of his voice. Either way, Kaguya's distressed wails soon faded to whimpers instead. He continued to comfort her until at last, she had fallen asleep again.

When dawn came, Kojin woke up to find Kiku fast asleep on the floor, one arm still draped over Kaguya protectively.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1) The Emperor's poem refers to the legend of the beauty _Yōkihi_ (Yang Guifei in Chinese, and also the fourth of the famed "Four Beauties" of ancient China) who infatuated Emperor Xuanzong to the point where he neglected his state and let a rebellion start, so his army forced him to execute her. In the ninth century, Bai Juyi told the story in "The Song of Unending Sorrow" (Chinese "_Changhenge_" and Japanese "_Chōgonka_"), a long poem that was extremely popular in Heian Japan.


	4. Year

_**Author's Note: And thus we reach Chapter Four! I apologize for how late this chapter has come, but as of recently school has sort of taken over my life. There are so many things I have to do that, unfortunately, fanfiction and fanworks overall have to take a backseat for a while. I'm very sorry! However, I do plan on trying to write and update my fanfics as much as possible. It'll be one heck of a juggling act, but it'll be done, I promise! A**_

**_Just a note about this fanfiction's setting, but I would like to say very quick that sadly, I do not have an extensive knowledge on the Heian era. I do research everything I possibly can and reference many aspects such as clothing, social habits, etc., but if you notice some mistakes please point them out to me and I'll be sure to double-check on them!_**

**_Lastly, the precise time of the setting is dubious. _****The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter_ is a very old folktale, so much so that its exact time of origin is unknown. _****_Therefore, I've taken a few creative liberties and set this fanfic somewhere around the late 9th Century __—__ about 893 for this chapter. That means that during this time, the Chinese Tang Dynasty is slowly, slowly crumbling while Korea is entering the era of the Later Three Kingdoms (Silla, Hubaekje or "Later Baekje", and Hugoguryeo or "Later Goguryeo")._**

* * *

年

_Toshi_

**Year**

* * *

_**The Diary of Fujiwara-no-Kiku**_

_Time is a strange thing to me, to those like me — to us. To the others, it is a solid entity, reliable and steady as the passage of the sun and moon. But to us it can feel so intangible: it is the breath of the wind, flitting by in an instant, at times palpable on our skin and then suddenly gone. The years either drag on or they flee from us. Decades take forever, or they take up as much time as it does to blink one's eyes._

_I was afraid back then. I am afraid now, still. So many times have I thought how it would have been better if I gave her to His Majesty to raise, or asked him to give her to another. Even now I cannot escape the feeling that it was wrong of me, so presumptuous, to take her in when for me time is such a foreign concept. I wonder: how can I continue counting her days? How can I keep track of her days, of mine, of her Nurse's? Like capturing a butterfly in hand and attempting to care for it — I fear that one day I may return and the butterfly's time has long passed without even my noticing._

_But Her Highness is not of this world, I know. This, too, was among my fears. If I were not the one to care for her, then what might happen? Suppose animals gathered round to revere her, or suppose the dragon descended to greet her. Suppose the Celestials came to celebrate when her foster father tied the knot of her first trousers. I know it is ridiculous, but these questions haunted me so that I came to believe she would be safest with me. Is this so? I cannot tell._

_But no, let us speak of other things. For one: the strangeness of being called "Father". Is this what it is like? Is this how the others feel when they look down at their children? When they hold and feed and carry them? It's as if Her Highness is but a warmth that I take into my arms, and I am still surprised by how I feel. From where does this strange protectiveness come? There are a thousand, a hundred thousand others for whom I feel I must protect — for they are as much a part of me as I of them — yet here is one that stands out among them all. I am in awe of it._

_It is still strange to say._

_"My daughter."_

_It is strange._

_I have never understood what it means to be "Father." I understand "Brother" and even "Uncle," but never "Father." So every day I learn more about just what that means. It means letting Her Highness go into the care of the Mistress of my Household, who remains her Nurse, and a very dutiful one at that. It means holding her in my lap, soothing her when she cries, watching her learn to crawl. It means at times I am pulled back to the Palace, to the court, and so I am sometimes gone for a few months. It means worrying, constant worrying, and then utter relief when I return to find her bigger and prettier, my little girl._

Chaff blowing free on the wind, yet now here is  
a stone and string to bind them down again.

_Her Highness has become my anchor. Somehow, she keeps the years from flying by as they are apt to do. She grounds me. There have been and still are moments when I am at court and suddenly I am stricken: How long has it been? How long have I been away? Have days passed by, or weeks? months? years? Fear takes hold of me, that I will come home and find her grown and unrecognizable — but it never happens. Always, I return to discover only a month or so has passed, and my child remains a child._

_I thank the gods for this._

_It has been three years. Three years since I first became a father. Her Highness has long begun to speak and it delights me to say she has a very pretty voice. At two, her first word was "Papa." Papa. I can never describe the joy I felt in that moment. Her hair has grown out as well, almost down to her chin already. She is such a lively child, always following Nurse or the gentlewomen or myself around, asking questions and telling stories. She loves the flowers, too. Come spring she is almost always out in the garden, admiring how everything is so colorful and bright. Alive._

_Now it is summer again. In the evening, the cicadas sing unseen in the grass. (The first time Her Highness heard them, she came to me near tears to ask if the flowers were yelling at her. I suppose I can imagine how she'd thought that. Either way it made me laugh, much to my daughter's distress.) We leave the lattice shutters open late into the night, both for the cicadas and for the heat. Everyone is robed in bright summer colors; today Nurse has dressed the Princess in sky-blue and kerria rose. She toddles about in the garden most charmingly. She's growing up. Her trousers ceremony is imminent._

_I fuss over the details: His Highness the Crown Prince had his own ceremony a year after her arrival. His Majesty was gracious enough to have me present, and it was both a great pleasure and a great honor to attend. As such, I can hardly not invite them to the Princess' ceremony. Even if His Majesty is unable to come, the gesture will at least show my appreciation for his kindness towards me. Perhaps I should even ask him to be the one to knot the trousers. It would be fine, as he is a supposed relative of mine and thus of Her Highness. It's not that I don't want to do it myself, but such an event as this…_

_I am so worried. I must send out invitations to the other nobles, and if they come they will most certainly meet me. They will know me, and then as Her Highness grows up, they will begin to notice she has a father who does not age. I can't imagine how this will affect her future. No — no, of course I can. My daughter has no mother, no maternal relative to support her, regardless of His Majesty's assurances. How can she survive amongst the cutthroat decorum of the nobility, with only this pathetic excuse of a father to—_

"PAPA!"

Kiku jumped and the movement made him jerk his arm across the page, a thick streak of ink slashing over his words. "Wha—" He put the brush down hastily and leaped up from the writing desk, just in time to see Kojin bursting through the aisle. Her face was pale and her eyes wide.

"What on earth was that?! Did you hear that as well, my lord?"

"Yes, I did. Where is—"

"_Papa!_"

Both adults whirled at the sound, Kiku's eyes widening at once. "Your Highness?!" Even as the name left his mouth he was already running towards the direction of her voice, Kojin close on his heels. "Princess, what happened? Are you all right?" A blind was slapped aside and Kiku found himself looking out at the near garden.

"Papa!" cried the voice again. "Papa, His Highness is being mean to me! He took the flowers that I picked for Amida-san!"

"I did not! I saw them first!"

It took a few seconds for the scene to register in Kiku's mind: Kaguya sat at the base of the old plum tree with grass stains painting the hem of her blue robe, and an extremely affronted expression. His Highness the Crown Prince wore the same expression as he kicked and flailed about wildly, yelling at her. Kaguya was sitting on top of him. Her skirts were hiked up and she stubbornly ignored his cries as he wailed for the girl to get off.

Kiku blinked, then slumped in abrupt, utter exhaustion. He could see Kojin behind him cover her forehead with a sleeve, no doubt holding back a frustrated groan. "And dare I ask how _this_all happened…?"

Immediately a roar of childish voices answered him, the two children shouting explanations and arguing with one another at the same time. Apparently the two had decided to pick a few blooms to put on the holy-water shelf, as offerings for the Buddha. However, like children are apt to do, they had started accusing each other of stealing flowers and began fighting with record speed. Kiku closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, heaving a sigh. One would think he would have gotten used to this, and yet…

He came over and bent down to take Kaguya under the arms, lifting her up off the Crown Prince and ignoring her heated protests. Then, when the boy jumped up to his feet and opened his mouth to say something more, he bopped them both on the head, lightly.

"_Ow!_"

"Oh, none of that now! Your Highnesses have been very naughty! Amida-san would choose a peasant's offering of weeds over your flowers after the way you two have behaved!" Kojin scolded, storming up from behind Kiku. Her painted face was uncovered and flushed with outrage. "Just one day! Just _one day_ of peace is all we ask from you. But no, you both insist on fighting worse than a crow and a sparrow!"

"_She's_ the crow then," said the Crown Prince, sniffling and rubbing his head. "A big, ugly crow that nobody likes!"

Kaguya gasped, offended, but she recovered fast and began to hit the older boy with her sleeves. "Well, His Highness is just mean! His Highness is a fat, dumb sparrow who stole my flowers!" the three-year-old cried. Kiku huffed and bent down again, this time to swing her up into his arms.

"You _are_ a very bad girl, Your Highness," he said with a weary smile, wiping at the girl's tear-stained cheeks. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "This is no way for a Princess to behave, especially one whose donning of the trousers is coming up so soon." At that her young face brightened, and she broke into a small smile.

"Yes! Her Highness is going to be grown-up! Like Papa!" She reached out to grab his _kanmuri_ cap and he laughed.

"Haha, that's right. But if you're going to be grown-up, you have to act like it, too, Your Highness. Now apologize to the Crown Prince, all right?" Kiku said, reaching up to brush grass from her hair.

A scowl reappeared on her brow at the notion of apologizing to her wrongdoer. But Kaguya looked back and forth between Kiku, then the Prince, then Kiku again, and finally gave a huff of defeat. "Okay… I'm sorry, Your Highness, for hitting you," she mumbled, addressing her father figure's shoulder rather than the actual Crown Prince.

The boy pursed his lips. Clearly he was at a dilemma, unsure whether to accept the apology or continue the argument. But upon the stern look Kojin directed at him, he made a split-second decision.

He opted for both.

"Okay. I'm sorry, too. Even though you took my flowers."

Kiku shut his eyes.

"I didn't take your flowers!"

It took him every ounce of his patience not to groan out loud.

* * *

"Is that so?"

"Yes, my lord," the servant said, his head bowed and his sleeves folded before his forehead. "In the letter, the Emperor of _Rìběn_ claims that he who is the rising sun is currently preparing for the childhood-ceremony of his esteemed daughter. It is their custom that a relative of the father, if not the father himself, knots the child's first pair of trousers, which are to be donned in this particular ceremony. The Emperor inquires whether you may be interested in holding this honor. He says he does not share true blood with the rising sun, and thus feels it more proper if my lord were to partake instead."

"Hmm… Intriguing. I would not have thought that that boy-king would remember me, let alone show such propriety. Although—"

The fan he was holding was made of bamboo ribs and heavy, lacquered golden paper. It gave a crisp _snap_ when the man opened it, revealing a dragon painted exquisitely over the surface. Jade-colored scales glittered and the dragon's cornflower eyes bulged; its maw gaped wide to bare rows of pearly teeth.

The man smiled, and his calm expression was somehow just as fearsome.

"A daughter, you say. How very fascinating, considering… Ah, but come to think of it, it seems that perhaps a visit to my brother _is_ already long overdue... Yusheng."

Another manservant came forward at once, bowing low.

"Send a message to His Eminence for me: I will be leaving for the Eastern islands at once," said the man. He smiled, closing his fan to rest it thoughtfully against his chin. "Apparently, I have a niece that I must needs meet."


	5. Cathay

_**Author's Note: In case you're wondering, yes, I am most definitely putting off a number of things to finish and update this latest chapter. It's worth it, though, as I am finally getting into Japan and China's scenes! Unfortunately it did mean that this chapter is especially long, more so than the previous ones. I hope you'll bear with me despite that.  
**_

_**Anyway, **_**important historical notes!**_** As I continued to research aspects of the Heian Era for this fanfic, the story became more and more history-inclined. As such, the date I've put the story to (currently 893 A.D.) means that the nameless current Emperor has instead become Emperor Uda of Heian Japan. Which is fitting, as his second son Prince Atsumi was born on this year as well! Thus his first son is the Crown Prince of this story, Prince Atsuhito, but unfortunately he's turned out far younger than he really should be. In reality Prince Atsuhito was born on February 6, 884, so he should really be nine years old and not five years old as he is in the story! am deeply sorry for this, but please know that it was not my intention to have the story line up with actual history. It's...just sort of developed into more "historical fantasy" than complete "fantasy" now...**_

_**Ahaha...what does this say about my prowess as a writer, I wonder... *awkward laughter***_

_**Also "Cathay", by the way, is the name by which China was known to medieval Europe; now it's used as a poetic title.**_

* * *

國泰

_Guótài_

**Cathay**

* * *

"There are still letters to be sent to the nobles of the Fifth and Sixth Avenue residences. The musicians have also replied to our message and agreed to perform at Her Highness' donning. But I will write a note to them about the current circumstances. Moreover, His Majesty has yet to reply to my lord's request, but in light of the newborn Prince's arrival, it is to be understood, correct...?"

"Mm. I'm not surprised. It's a joyous occasion, truly," Kiku remarked.

He and his servant Tadao were sitting out on the veranda of the main house, sifting through an enormous pile of multicolored papers. They were letters, documents, imperial notices, invitations to be sent out but for now were set aside. For earlier that week, to the great joy of the Palace, His Majesty's Consort had finally given birth to the child she'd been bearing. The baby turned out to be another boy, further reason to celebrate. Thus Kiku had decided to postpone Kaguya's donning of the trousers, out of respect for the imperial family. Besides, it was doubtful that the nobles would attend an obscure Princess' coming-of-childhood over the new Imperial Prince's arrival. Doing so would reflect badly upon them, at the very least.

He sighed. Even so, Kaguya's disappointed face had been a bit hard to look at. She'd been so excited for her ceremony. Although it didn't occupy her mind for long, he was glad for that, as she and the Crown Prince had immediately gotten into a spat over whether the Princess could meet the newborn Prince.

Kiku bit back a smile as he remembered how they'd fought. Kojin was right — they quarreled worse than a crow and sparrow. Honestly, how on earth did they manage to stay friends?

The air outside was quiet. A soft breeze was blowing, the tall plume grass rustling a dry melody, and it carried to him the muted sounds of the eastern wing. Kojin was reading a _monogatari_-tale out loud, her voice low and somnolent. Kiku thus assumed that Kaguya was listening; since her Nurse was not busy scolding her, that probably meant she was behaving herself.

He chuckled under his breath. She was a spirited girl, his young daughter. Save for her disputes with the Crown Prince, Kaguya was quite well-behaved, but she was adventurous and loved to run about the manor, getting into trouble like children do. In the late afternoons while Kaguya napped, Kiku would listen bemusedly to Kojin's rants about the girl's willfulness. She'll end up in a lot of trouble, her Nurse would fume. Always scurrying about, always forgetting the fan she was supposed to start holding before her face. Not even Kojin's own children were so energetic!

Deep down, Kiku couldn't help but adore his daughter's strong demeanor. Kaguya took to her studies dutifully, even enthusiastically, but then she would hike up her skirts and splash about in the garden lake with equal cheer. Once, Kiku had heard Kojin scream and came running only to find that Kaguya had taken her inks and painted figures all over the screens of her room. It amused Kiku but appalled Kojin, and the Princess was often scolded for her unladylike behavior.

Still, Kiku knew that Kojin's admonishments were in the right, and he did have to correct his daughter's actions. After all, her stubbornness wouldn't be taken well in the rigid world of the Palace. So when Kojin's words seemed to fall upon deaf ears, Kiku would take Kaguya into his lap and tell her, quietly but firmly, that he was very disappointed in her. The Princess would cry thinking that he was angry with her, which was disheartening to see — but it had to be done. And anyway, he would always reassure her afterwards that yes, he still loved her but she must _not_ disobey her Nurse again.

It took him a moment to realize Kojin's voice had paused. Kiku lifted an eyebrow and when Tadao started to ask what was wrong, raised a hand to quiet him. He listened intently for a minute before hearing what he'd been expected to hear.

"Your _Highness!_ Are you _sleeping?!_"

His lips twitched and he coughed hard to disguise his laugh. Despite that, Tadao was already sniggering beside him. From the eastern wing came Kaguya's high, sheepish giggles alongside her Nurse's indignant voice.

Kiku had just calmed down and picked up a sheaf of papers when he realized there was something else.

Outside the manor gate was the distinct sound of wheels against the dirt road. An ox was lowing and its call mingled with that of a page-boy's "_Make way! Make way!_", both voices loud and insistent. Kiku frowned and straightened. His Umegae residence was secluded enough that few people came this way to his home, and even less by mistake.

"Strange…"

Surely it wasn't a visitor? Tadao had already received for him the invitation to attend the gathering for the Second Prince's birth. Emperor Uda himself had penned it, his brush strokes dark and narrow against the gold-flecked mulberry paper. However, there'd been no mention as to whether he would attend Kaguya's trousers ceremony later on, or even if he had gotten Kiku's request. Odd... Kiku had had Tadao deliver the letter two-and-a-half weeks ago. The Emperor was certain to have read a note from him and then answered…

A bustle of activity grabbed his attention then. Kiku stood up as his servants ushered along the wooden walkway a man dressed in green silks, who spotted him and Tadao at once and hurried forward. He stopped before them on the veranda, bowing, hands raised to his forehead in the appropriate gesture of respect. Looking at him, Kiku felt his eyes narrow involuntarily. There was something familiar about this man, about his bearing, as though they had met before.

Then the man lowered his hands and glanced upwards, and the Nation stopped breathing. In his chest, his heart seemed to stutter to a halt.

It couldn't be.

"Yusheng."

At his name, the man bowed again. "Ah, this humble servant is truly honored to be remembered, my lord," he spoke in the songlike tones of Mandarin. Out of the corner of his eye Kiku noted Tadao's baffled, uncomprehending expression. That was no surprise. While most of the Japanese nobles could read and utilize Chinese characters with great fluency, actually speaking the language was an entirely different matter.

Even now he had to struggle a bit to speak it. His tongue felt odd as he slipped back into the old language, as if he was speaking in tongue twisters.

"It has been a long time, Yusheng. I suppose, since you are here, that means…"

Kiku couldn't say it. Part of him didn't want to believe it. Why, with everything that ought to be preoccupying him in the mainland — why, with this growing gap between them — why, why_now_ would he—

But the fact that the old servant Yusheng was before him now, and that he was speaking in the language he'd near abandoned once more… These were all proof for what he wanted to deny.

"The master I serve wishes to see you, my lord. He awaits outside the gates," Yusheng said, raising his folded sleeves. Beneath them, Kiku could just see the tremble of the old man's hands. So Kaguya had not kept him completely out of Time's grasp after all. The last time he could remember Yusheng had been younger, his back less stooped, the skin of his hands smoother.

The words left him before he fully realized it.

"Yes, of course. Let your master enter." He paused, swallowed, and repeated the translated order for his men.

Yusheng bowed wordlessly and turned to head back to the front gates, Kiku's men guiding him. The Nation gazed after him, unable to make sense of his roiling emotions. Why now, why now, what could have made him—

"Tadao," he said quietly, and continued in Japanese. "Have the women bring food and drink, and bring it into the aisle. We've a guest to entertain."

The servant's curiosity was burning, he could tell. But it was a nod towards Tadao's adequacy that he suppressed his questions and only gave a bow, gathering up the papers around them quickly. Without another word, the young man hurried into the main house, the silk of his robes rustling with his hurried movements. Kiku remained standing. He made himself take a deep breath, exhaling as slow as he could.

The mentioned guest and his attendants would be led in through the outer gate, then the middle gate, and then into the gallery of the east wing to walk around into the main building. From there, they would have a good view of Kiku on the veranda of the main house — as he would of them — and so avoiding the guest until the last moment was out of the question.

Kiku saw him almost immediately. Dressed in dark purple and red brocades, a jeweled belt was cinched around his waist and a sword rested at his hip. Long hair was arranged in a knot and tucked neatly under a Chinese official's cap. They looked so similar yet dissimilar, the two brothers — and evidently Yao thought so as well when he spotted Kiku watching him. His small smile widened but didn't touch his eyes.

For some reason, as Kiku watched Yao's expression shift at the sight of him, he suddenly thought of blood beading rich and full along a fresh wound.

An ominous thought, to say the least.

Kiku's servants bowed low in greeting, and Yao's attendants kept their heads lowered as their lord stepped forward. Poet's-hands were tucked formally into his broad sleeves, sunlight gleaming off the fabric to give it a rich sheen. Yao looked proud, handsome, even leaning into arrogance — although Kiku could still taste the air of weariness around him. A jade ornament dangled from Yao's waist, and clinked softly when he stopped a few feet before Kiku. He was smiling but his dark eyes were narrowed, sharp-gazed as he scrutinized Kiku closely.

The Nation wondered if Yao was aware _he_ was doing the same.

Then at last, the Chinese man grinned and laughed out loud.

"Aren't you going to say hello to me, Younger Brother?"

Yao's voice was as familiar as always. Calm, composed, the poetic lilt of his language making it seem as if he was always reciting verse. It made Kiku feel warmly nostalgic as much as it put him on edge.

"...But of course. Welcome back, Elder Brother."

Kiku bowed his head and Yao chuckled. The man came forward to clap Kiku's shoulder, no doubt noticing how he flinched at the physical contact. His eyes flickered, perhaps in amusement.

"_Aiyaa_, you're as formal and uptight as always, Younger Brother. Not even seeing your big brother after so long will change that, I see!"

"I am hardly about to change my personality simply for a short visit from you," was Kiku's calm reply. "If you've come, I assume that means you require something, Brother?"

Yao smiled, and something in it gave off the sense that Kiku had passed some test. He stiffened; he didn't like that.

"No, no, not at all," Yao said. "In fact I think you'll be surprised to hear this has absolutely nothing to do with politics."

Kiku's eyes widened just slightly but it still did not escape his brother's notice. Yao merely smiled and continued, "His Majesty your Emperor Uda — so kind of him, by the way, and may he live ten thousand years — sent me a message not long ago. He told me you were holding a special ceremony for your child and had invited him to partake. However, he thought that it'd be more proper if _I_ were to come. Seeing as how I am your _brother_ and all."

A smile. Kiku was frozen solid.

"But now that's very interesting, Younger Brother. A child? But you know, I am quite honored to find myself an uncle," continued Yao. "I've brought her… Ah, yes, your Emperor informed me it was a daughter. Well, I've brought her a few gifts of my own. Three years old already, his letter said. It was rather thoughtful of him, I'll admit."

Nothing on Yao's face gave him away. It was a perfect mask of cordiality, half-genuine and half… Well, not exactly false, but there was a touch of insincerity to it. Kiku understood why: he could feel his brother's gaze on him, narrowed, questioning, demanding answers.

The Nations were all infertile. Kiku physically having a child was impossible.

So no, it was the question of _why_ he would have one that irritated Yao. Yao, who was older than he by a millenium, who stared at him now with a dark look in his eyes. He was rightly assuming that Kiku had adopted this child, and who better than him to know the impossibility of it succeeding? Kiku felt as if he were reading his brother's mind, what with how clearly he felt the disapproval.

You fool.

You fool.

What do you think you're doing?

That was what Yao was thinking, wasn't it…?

Kiku spoke: "You wish to meet her."

There was no answer save for a cryptic smile. Kiku exhaled quietly.

"In that case...we'll have to wait for her Nurse to get her prepared. Meanwhile, Brother, you must be tired after your long journey. I will have my gentlewomen bring out something for you to eat."

"I would like that. Thank you," said Yao, slipping out one long hand to wave his attendants forward. As his servants took his outer robe off his shoulders, Kiku turned and nodded once to the women standing within the blinds. He whispered to one of them to tell Kojin to get Kaguya ready, to which she bowed and slipped away.

They all responded silently and efficiently: the gentlewomen rolled up the blinds to expose the southern aisle to the summer air. Already a low table had been set up, embroidered cushions arranged for the two men to sit; beyond that was a maze of standing curtains and painted screens. The women brought Yao a tray of rice and pickled vegetables, along with a tall vial of chilled wine. Yao raised an eyebrow in admiration at the cracked-porcelain vial, then looked up at Kiku.

"But forgive me, I've been ill-mannered. Are you doing well, Younger Brother? I'm told that you've been busy with many matters of state." This last sentence was spoken wryly, although in truth Kiku could understand why.

He took a seat and invited Yao to do the same in a soft tone, which the Chinese man did straightaway. As a gentlewoman poured them wine, he answered, "I have been doing well, Brother. Things have gotten a bit better for me—" (He noted how Yao gave a sardonic smile at that.) "—and otherwise there is not much of note. And you, Elder Brother?"

"Ha!" Yao let out a scoffing laugh and lifted his cup to his lips. "I will live, is all I'll say. To be frank, I don't think my Emperor will be happy with me when I return. I more or less ran off on him, you see."

Kiku blinked at how casually Yao said this. The country of China was struggling now: the Tang Dynasty's government was fracturing from the inside, with the end result being innumerable political plots and scandals and a weakening central government. The Eastern Nation could only imagine how this was affecting Yao.

"You…" He faltered for a moment, unsure what to say. "Don't...do such a careless thing. It will not bode well for you nor your country, Brother."

Yao looked at him, weary, and for a moment neither said anything. Then a condescending smile crossed the Chinese man's face and he gave a scornful chuckle.

"What's the worst that can happen? My Emperor kills me?"

Kiku was silent, and after a minute of quiet chuckling, Yao sighed and set down his cup. He had one of his servant women play on a lute while he ate, his expression strangely pensive. Kiku didn't eat anything, only sipped at his wine in silence, and so he started a bit when a voice piped up from behind a curtain.

"Your Grace. Her Highness is ready for you."

Ah. Kiku gave a nod and replied in Japanese, "Very good. Have her come out when I call for her." There was a sound of assent, and then silk rustling against the hardwood floor. Yao was looking at him when he turned around.

"It is my daughter. She is ready for you to see her now, Elder Brother."

There was no reply to this besides the _clack_ of Yao setting down his bowl and chopsticks. He sat back on his heels and smiled. "Well then," was all he said.

Kiku inclined his head before looking back at the curtains. There was a bit of a bustle behind them, forms moving back and forth, whispers behind layered sleeves. He could faintly pick out Kojin's voice addressing the young Princess as well: "Back straight, after you greet them don't speak unless they do first, and do _not_ put that fan down…!"

He had to smile, but quickly let it drop when he saw Yao watching him in his peripheral vision. After the fuss had settled down somewhat, Kiku cleared his throat. Signaling.

Kojin emerged first. She shuffled out from behind the gauze curtain to bow. "Here is Her Highness the Princess, my lords," she said and then glanced sideways expectantly.

Kaguya had been dressed in fresh robes of white-over-red brocade, the fabric embroidered with tiny cranes. In one hand, she held a cypress-wood fan to shield her face from the men's gazes. She knelt beside the curtain to bow prettily, and greeted them in her high, clear voice, "I trust you are well, my lords."

Beside her, Kojin smiled behind her sleeves, obviously pleased. Kiku had to wonder how fiercely she had drilled those words into the girl.

As much as Kaguya was trying to keep her gaze down, Kiku noticed that her eyes kept flicking upwards at Yao, bright with curiosity. Said man was staring back at her with as much interest. His eyebrows were raised and mouth quirked. Then—

"Put down your fan, child. Your uncle wants to see your face."

Kiku wasn't sure what surprised Kaguya most: the fact that Yao had suddenly spoken in Japanese (albeit accented), his calling himself her uncle, or his request. In any case, she glanced up at Kojin nervously, and when the stunned woman gave no reply, she turned to Kiku for permission.

He hesitated before he gave the subtlest of nods, and after another long moment, Kaguya slowly lowered the fan.

Yao's reaction was utterly unexpected.

His eyes widened and he stared at the child as if she'd struck him with lightning. The expression he wore was so hard to read — was it fear? horror? awe? And if the former two, then why? His lips parted but no sound came out, and his gaze on her was unblinking, stunned. Kiku couldn't recall how long it'd been since he saw Yao like this: speechless, at a complete loss for words.

"...Ha. Haha… Hahaha!"

And all of a sudden, Yao began to laugh.

"Hahaha! Oh! Oh, I see…!"

He sniggered and let his head fall into his hands, shoulders shaking with mirth. Looking at him in bewilderment, Kiku was shocked to see that Yao's eyes were tearing up.

"Ah, but I understand now! Haha...and what does your father call you, little one?" Yao chortled, gesturing for the startled girl to come closer. He wiped at his eyes imperceptibly and smiled.

"H-Her Highness is Nayotake-no-Kaguya...Uncle," she stammered. Yao lifted a hand to stroke her head when she came over to his side. Kiku watched them; his lips were pressed into a thin line.

"Nayotake-no-Kaguya, hm… _Aiyaa_, what a difficult name. And I apologize, little Niece, if I frightened you. This uncle was just wondering how on earth your father could have had such a pretty little girl," Yao remarked with a wink at Kiku, who just sighed. Kaguya blinked, then her face flushed and she ducked her head in abrupt shyness.

"But about your name now… I think I shall call you _Chang'e_," her uncle murmured aloud. "Mm, yes. _Ah Chang'e_ will be a fine nickname for you, my little Niece. And you are a Princess as well…? How very fitting…" His words were trailing off, thoughtful.

Kaguya didn't notice, her eyes lighting up in fascination. "What's that mean, Uncle? It's pretty." Yao laughed at that.

"I suppose it is, isn't it? It is fitting to you, too, Niece," he said idly. His gaze flickered over to Kiku, however, and the knowing sharpness of it made Kiku stiffen. "What else would it be but the Goddess of the Moon?"


	6. Rabbit

_**Author's Note: Chapter Six, suckaaaaaaaaas! *shrieks* We finally get to Kaguya's donning of the trousers - and it turns out to be a way shorter scene than I expected. *awkward laughter* I feel, though, that it's not as important as what is to come. This childhood-ceremony of hers is but a first step towards something far bigger. It's just the first domino in a line of events; and who knows it? Yao.  
**_

_**So! Now a little on Yao: if you haven't noticed already, I don't exactly have the "big brother" image of him in mind. I love Historical Hetalia, and based on history...well, Yao wouldn't be like that. To me, he's more of an old-as-dirt grandpa who uses a "cutesy" image to hide the fact that in reality, he was, is and always will be a vicious dragon. It's a more realistic image of this ancient nation with its bloody history, I believe. If you're interested in this portrayal (and I encourage you to be!), check out **_**stirringwind**_** on Tumblr. She's a great Hetalia fanartist who lovesss that portrayal of historical Hetalia's China. I personally love her. X333**_

* * *

兎

_Usagi_

**Rabbit**

* * *

"Ah, very good, very good. Now how about this character here?"

"Um… 'Bunny'!"

"Mm, good! And this one?"

"Um... E...E…."

"Haha, it's all right. These are a lot harder than what you're used to, I know," Yao chuckled, smiling down at the girl in his lap who just pouted at the paper. Scattered around them were similar sheets of colorful paper, all inscribed with complex characters: Yao would write down a Chinese poem, and then Kaguya would try to recognize as many of the characters as possible. It was harder than expected, both because of her age, and because Japanese women were taught to write in _hiragana_ and _kana_-letters rather than the Chinese _kanji_. That was reserved for men, for official documents and examinations. So Yao was rather impressed with how much Chinese his young niece could read, no matter how limited.

He smiled to himself, just a little. No doubt that it was because Kiku had taught her, on account of Kiku's relationship with _him_.

Due to the recent celebrations for the Second Prince's birth, and thus the postponement of Kaguya's ceremony, Yao had decided to extend his stay in Japan. It was the third week since his arrival in Japan, and the trousers ceremony for Kaguya (the date for which had at last been finalized) was almost upon them. He and his attendants had been given residence in one of the minor Palaces, a cluster of buildings named after a certain flower or so, but it mattered little: after all, he would come and visit his brother and niece almost every day, so it might as well have been the Umegae residence at which he stayed.

(Kiku, it was clear, was unsure how to feel about this.)

Yao looked over to his younger brother now, who sat watching them before a screen painted with galloping horses. "Will you not join us, Younger Brother?" he questioned, words light. Kiku did not answer save for a narrowing of the eyes, and a glance down at his daughter who was perusing the poem.

"...She likes you," he said in Chinese. Yao's eyes flickered at the sound of his language, but his smile did not waver.

"Does she now? I am glad," said Yao, likewise in Mandarin. "I was afraid she would not be so partial towards her uncle, so that makes me quite happy. But you did not tell her about me."

The last part was not accusing, not questioning, just a blatant statement. Yao stroked Kaguya's hair fondly, smiling at her efforts to copy the character for "west" before he glanced up. Kiku's expression quickly smoothed over.

"No. I did not."

"Hmm. Somehow, I did not think you would." A lock of Kaguya's hair slipped free, brushing against her cheek; Yao tucked it behind her ear, and turned towards Kiku. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were cutting your ties with me."

There was no answer. Kiku's lips thinned into a white line as Yao looked away to correct Kaguya's brushwork. "Here, hold your brush like this, little Niece," he said to her, adjusting her grip on the bamboo brush, long fingers moving over hers. The little girl giggled and looked up at her uncle with a bright smile, innocently oblivious of his exchange with her father.

"What're you saying with Papa, Uncle?" asked Kaguya. Yao just smiled at her.

"Nothing important, Ah Chang'e, just grown-up things. Now why don't you try and write a poem of your own, hm?" This Kaguya attacked with great relish, and Yao looked over at Kiku, slipping into his own language again.

"It's not as if I am blind, Younger Brother. I have lived long enough to know when I am being...ah, shall we say, dismissed?"

"I am not—"

"No, indeed. _You_ are not. But that Emperor of yours? Perhaps." Yao's voice was cool, and he reached over to pick up a sea-shell; a scene of men playing _kemari_-kickball had been painted on the inside and he stared at it, looking grave. "I am not blind, Kiku," he was whispering now. "Do you not think that I see what is happening around me? To me? That I do not feel all this weariness bearing down on my shoulders, on my head like an executioner's blade? And do you not think that I might have heard what your Court says about me? Sometimes, Younger Brother, I wonder if you are insulting my intelligence."

Kiku's back stiffened with the coldness that seeped into Yao's tone, but after a minute, the Chinese man sighed and put down the painted shell.

"...Ha...she is a remarkable girl, this little Princess," he murmured, a tired smile crossing his face at Kaguya's messy rendition of a poem. She'd really done nothing more than take the original poem's characters and rearrange them, but Yao patted her head in approval nonetheless. "Like I said, it is fitting, very fitting indeed."

Kiku frowned. Rarely had Yao ever shown such affection towards another, and never would Kiku have expected him to do so with a strange child. "Why do you call her that, Brother?" he asked. Yao's eyes flicked to him, and he swallowed. "Why the Moon Goddess?"

"Oh, Kiku, come now," Yao said, lifting an eyebrow, and Kiku tensed at the familiar note of condescension in his voice. How long had it been since he'd heard it? "Surely you would recognize a celestial being when you see one."

He froze. Silence encompassed, filled only by the swishing of Kaguya's brush and the rustle of the gentlewomen behind the curtains. None of them could have understood Yao, nor could they see his expression; for that, Kiku was thankful. He could not speak. He could not breathe. It was impossible.

Impossible.

"Remarkable, yes?" Yao repeated, eyes back on the young girl. "I couldn't believe it, either, when I first saw her. But it's unmistakable. There is almost a light around her, a radiance. Beauty that blinds. When I first saw her, I thought, '_A__iyaa_, this little one cannot possibly be of this world.'"

"But…" Kiku spoke slowly, enunciating every vowel. "That can't be…"

"Oh?" Yao looked up at him. "So then you are going to tell me that by some miracle, she is your true flesh-and-blood child? Nothing strange has happened that hinted to you about who she really is?"

A memory flashed across his mind: a ghostly woman dressed in all white, holding child's-robes in her arms. He quickly shook his head. "I…" He hesitated for a moment, then proceeded cautiously, "I found her within a bamboo grove one night. Within a stalk of bamboo. She was no bigger than my hand."

There was a shift in Yao's eyes at that, recognizing the parallel, but in the next moment it had vanished and he was nodding. "Sent down to Earth from the Heavens, yes…?" he remarked, quietly as if he was talking to himself. "She is hardly a humble sprite or wood spirit, if that was what you thought. No, no, this little one is something much more... So."

"'So'?"

"So what do you plan to do?" Yao turned and gave him a hard look. Kiku tensed. "Don't tell me you plan to keep her."

What?

He stared at his brother for a long time, unable to make sense of his words. Then: "What...else would I do?" She is my child, were the words on the tip of his tongue — but he did not speak them.

"What else, you say. Well then. I will tell you this only once: Send her back." Yao placed his hand on the child's head and closed his eyes. "Give her back to the Heavens. She is not yours to have."

"Give her back…?! But she is—"

"Not yours." The Chinese man opened his eyes and glowered at his brother darkly. "You know, Brother, the concept of harmonious conflict; after all, it was I who taught it to you. _Yin_ and_yang_, forever at odds, forever hand-in-hand. They cooperate, they are united and combined into a single force, a single entity, but they never _touch_. Darkness and light are two sides of the same coin, as is birth and death, water and fire, sound and silence. Why, Brother, do you think we cannot live with humans? It is because we are immortal, and they mortal. Mortal and immortal beings cannot touch. They cannot live alongside one another.

"And yet, we, too, are mortal. We are Earth: grounded and dependent on the cycle of Time, no matter what we think or wish it to be. But not Heaven. Heaven is overhead, above, beyond Time's twisted senses of humor. Heaven is free. Truly, doubtlessly immortal."

He looked at him, dark eyes narrowed. "Heaven and Earth coexist, but they can never meet. You and I are Earth, and this dear girl is Heaven. Send her back, Younger Brother. Give her up to whom she truly belongs."

The Japanese man's shoulders were hunched. His hands were clenched in his lap, gripping the silk fabric of his robes so tightly they were tearing. An unreadable expression contorted his face, emotions conflicting and flitting by so quickly Yao almost couldn't decipher them. Almost. With a rueful smile Yao stroked Kaguya's hair slowly, and waited for the answer.

"No."

Barely a whisper. Yao closed his eyes.

"...As you wish." Then he opened them again, looked up, and chuckled. It was in Japanese the next time he spoke. "Now! We ought to be discussing Ah Chang'e's trousers ceremony, yes? My niece is about to grow up and everything must be ready."

"Yes!" Kaguya beamed up at him, eyes wide and excited. "And Uncle will be there, right?"

Yao laughed. "Haha, that is right! Uncle would not dare miss it for the world." He wet his fingertip with his tongue to wipe smudged ink from her cheek, smiling. "Besides, I'm going to be the one to knot your first trousers, little Niece."

"Yes, thank you, Uncle!"

"Haha...such a polite child you are."

Kiku barely heard their little exchange; he was bent low at his waist, trying to calm his breathing down. Yes, he had known Kaguya was something more than could be seen, of course he had known, but to give her up? To let go of this child who called him Father and who loved him in a way no other had before?

Could he do that?

Let her go?

He didn't know if he was able to answer that.

"_Solitary rabbit, hustling east and bustling west._"

He looked up to see Yao watching him, although the man's gaze seemed distracted as he recited the poem, half under his breath.

"_Clothes are best when new,_"

Their eyes met then, and the side of Yao's mouth quirked.

"_people best when old._" (1)

It seemed to be a bitter expression the man wore.

* * *

The day of the ceremony came. It was in the peak of summer once again.

The plum tree in Kiku's gardens was thick with green leaves, and ringed all around it were mats and stands for food and drinks, as well as a sectioned-off area for the musicians and the ceremony itself. The blinds of the east and west wings were let down, screening the gentlewomen and female nobles who arrived; their layered sleeves were a myriad of silk rainbows, peeping out demurely from under the blinds.

Kiku had dressed in a pale green dress cloak, under which he wore a white shift along with purple gathered trousers. On the other hand, Yao wore rich embroidered silks of blue, gold, and deep green that Kiku overheard the nobility admiring behind their hands. An amulet, of carved jasper and heavy with scarlet thread, dangled from his waist; both he and Kiku wore their formal caps, and both looked strangely majestic whether alone or standing side-by-side.

For the most part, however, Kiku remained hidden. He had to.

Tadao had done his duties well: the musicians performed without a hitch, and the ceremony went smoothly. Monks in gray and orange robes knelt to bless the child. Smoke from the clove and anise incense floated through the air, cloying and sweet and entwining with the music of the flutes. At Yao's urging (and from there, that of the other nobles'), Kiku sat down with his_kin_ to play a short melody. A few other nobles joined in with him, and even some of the noblewomen.

His Majesty was unable to come, but His Highness the Crown Prince was there, attended by his own Nurse as well as many servants. Kiku was glad, and (he knew) so was Kaguya.

Kojin brought out the little girl when it was time, and even though her face was concealed with a fan, there fell a collective hush over those gathered. Her robes were simple but exquisite, yellow and blue and pink embroidered with tiny, obscure flowers. Her hair was neatly combed — no doubt thanks to her Nurse — and fell around her jaw like silk. Kiku felt a lump form in his throat as Kojin bent to help the Princess into her first pair of crimson trousers. Then Yao stepped up, knelt, and knotted them; the man wore a weary but proud smile as he did so.

And thus the heart of the ceremony was complete.

Kaguya had taken her first step towards adulthood.

The sound of the monks' solemn chanting and the wavering music swelled. Behind his bamboo blind, Kiku spotted the Crown Prince standing and clapping wildly, despite his Nurse's urging for him to sit down. He smiled, and closed his eyes.

Let time stop here.

For just this moment, let it stop.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1) The poem that Yao writes down for Kaguya is "An Ancient Romance Song," an anonymous poem from the Han Dynasty. It's a divorce poem; "solitary" describes a lonely figure without support. The first two lines describe the abandoned self that still misses her old companion, and the last two urge the old companion to remember the past. A bit of foreshadowing? Perhaps.


	7. Poems

_**Author's Note: And thus we manage to reach Chapter Seven! After this, we will begin a new period of Kaguya and Kiku's relationship, as the girl grows older and the supernatural nature of her origin begins to rear its head more and more. Eventually there will be no way of avoiding it, but for now let's not get too much into that, 'kay? X3 Many, many thanks to the people who review and support this story! Your comments help encourage me to work even harder on it, and I hope this chapter is to your satisfaction as well. So now, since I honestly don't have too much to say, enjoy the chapter~!  
**_

_**(By the way, in case you were curious, the identity of the woman behind the blinds will be revealed. But that will be much later on...)**_

* * *

詩

_Uta_

**Poems**

* * *

Midday cast long shadows into the aisles of the estate buildings. Outside, a cool breeze stirred the leaves of the plum tree, and scattered ripples over the garden lake's surface. The murky water lapped around the tiny island centered on the lake, where a stone lantern stood unlit. Threads of jasper veined its black surface.

"You are leaving, Elder Brother?"

Kiku was sitting on the polished veranda with Yao — the two men drank chilled wine together, facing out into the near garden. He sipped at his lacquered-cup and the alcohol washed cool and bitter over his tongue. The familiarity of it (once, they had sat like this, gazing at the moon together, hadn't they?) meant that neither of them was much inclined to hold conversation.

"Mm. I am. I've stalled enough as it is, and I'd rather not have His Eminence be alone for far too long." Yao tipped back his own cup, then gave a curt laugh. "To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised to return and find the empire fallen to dust already."

It was a joke; Yao would know at once if something happened. Kiku stared at his brother's back, brow furrowed.

"You are unwell—"

"I am aware," said Yao, and the abrupt sharpness of his tone made Kiku stiffen. His eyes narrowed and suddenly he recalled a time when Yao would always speak to him like that. Never hiding the derision in his eyes, the ever-present mockery in his voice—

"Although...I daresay I am feeling better, somewhat." Yao's sigh pulled Kiku out of his reverie. He shook his head surreptitiously to rid himself of those memories, and looked up. Yao was setting down his cup and now glanced sideways at Kiku's gentlewomen. The two men were not alone: rarely was anyone of their status ever truly alone. The gentlewomen's sleeves were even clearly visible, peeping out behind the curtain stands. Yao cleared his throat.

"If you will, bring Her Highness here to me. I wish to bid her farewell," was his order for them. The hair rose on Kiku's arms at the imperious air his brother assumed. The haunting familiarity of it…

"Of course, sire," came the soft reply, and some of the gentlewomen departed with a shuffle of silk robes over the polished wood floorboards. Yao gave a noncommittal _hmm_ as he turned to look out the garden again.

For a long while, the two of them continued to sit in silence. Somewhere in the high plume grass, a cicada was hiding, unseen from their vantage point. Its shrill cry filled the quaveringly-hot air. Kiku stared down at the broad rim of the cup in his hands. His shoulders were slumped, weary.

It had been a long time since he and his brother sat down together in this way, a very long time indeed. And (though Kiku hated to admit it) Yao had been right: Emperor Uda's counselors were advising that he break ties with the Tang Empire. The crumbling stability of Yao's government was like an ax dangling over the man's head; evidently, the Emperor's court and likewise His Majesty saw no point in dealing with someone in such an irreversible situation.

With this knowledge, the air between them was tangibly awkward.

The cicada outside quieted. Yao glanced at him.

"My words have been heavy on your mind, have they not, Brother?"

Kiku dropped his own gaze. Only a few times has he been able to hold direct eye contact with Yao for very long. There was a certain darkness within those black eyes, an ancient look that unsettled, even frightened him: like staring into the face of a dragon.

"Do you deny it?"

He pressed his lips together at Yao's nonchalant tone. Slowly, Kiku forced himself to lift his head and lock eyes with him. When he spoke, it was slow and deliberate. "No... I do not deny it, Elder Brother."

"Hm, good. I am glad to see that you are, at least, listening to your elders," said Yao, a close-lipped smile crossing his face. That smile sent an unpleasant tingle down Kiku's spine, even though it soon fell away. "You will not heed me, however. You refuse to give her up."

"I will not," Kiku gave his head a firm shake. "She will not be taken from me now."

"So stubborn," Yao whispered, sounding almost wistful. His eyes softened, seemed to turn sad as he studied Kiku's face. "Why won't you understand that that is not your choice to make? The little Princess cannot stay with you forever."

"Then just let me have her for now," Kiku replied. Inwardly he cringed at how weak he sounded: it was as if he was pleading. "If I cannot have her with me forever, then give me just the time I have now."

Yao made a soft noise like a suppressed sigh, although Kiku knew it wasn't really. "It's not _my_ choice to make, either," he said as if half to himself. "But no... Perhaps it is better this way. This way, you will learn." Those eyes flicked up again, and the edges of his irises appeared to harden. "You've become attached to the Princess so quickly...but you will see. We cannot keep the ties we forge, Brother. In time, you may understand this as well as I."

Clenching his jaw, Kiku gave no response, and likewise Yao lapsed back into silence. In the plum tree a pair of sparrows bickered, their chirps loud and insistent. The gauzy standing curtains swayed in a zephyr.

"Sire," spoke a woman's voice from behind one such curtain. "Her Highness is ready for you."

"Ah yes." Yao stood and nodded once, austere. Then a cry rang out from over the walkway, accompanied by a pattering of cloth-muffled footsteps.

"Uncle!"

Kaguya was rushing towards them. She'd become quickly accustomed to her new trousers, and so was less encumbered than by heavy robes such as that her Nurse wore and was struggling with to keep up. Upon spotting the men, Kojin slowed down at once and dipped her head, both as a bow and so her hair slipped to veil her face. Kaguya, on the other hand, was barefaced and apparently upset; when Yao knelt to smile at her, she stopped to bob a bow — "I-trust-you-are-well-sir" — and then flung her arms around his shoulders. From behind, Kiku had a clear view of Yao stiffening in shock.

"Are you leaving, Uncle?" Kaguya cried, her face scrunched up and distraught. "Don't go away!"

Yao laughed and lifted her up to hold her tight. "Though propriety should always be observed, never has there been a more charming girl," he remarked, patting her hair. She sniffed loudly, feet dangling as she clung to his neck. "I'm sorry, Ah Chang'e, but Uncle has to go home now. Remember to be good for your father and Nurse, understand?"

"Yes, Uncle," she mumbled, and he smiled as he put her down again.

"Aha, that's a good girl. Now, before I go, there's something I want to give you."

"A present?" Kaguya's eyes brightened just as Kiku stood with a mild shake of his head.

"Elder Brother, you've done far more than enough for her," he tried to say. Over the last few weeks, Yao had revealed a multitude of gifts for his young niece. Rolls of expensive gleaming fabrics, jeweled hair ornaments, appropriate furnishings for her newly-redone quarters, even a seven-stringed _kin_ that looked painfully familiar. But Yao scoffed and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Not at all. I doubt I'll be able to return for a long while, so I believe I ought to spoil my niece as long as possible," he said with a light shrug. The look he turned to Kiku with, however, silenced the words on the tip of the man's tongue. "...Dismiss the gentlewomen. I wish to give this to her in private. You may stay."

He spoke this last part in Mandarin; Kiku swallowed and nodded once. When he turned and told the gentlewomen to leave, they cast glances at one another even as they bowed and shuffled out of the room. He sighed. If they weren't curious before, they certainly would be _now_.

However, Yao didn't appear as if he was paying them any further mind. His attention was entirely on Kaguya, who was quiet under his abruptly grave gaze. "Little Chang'e," he said, kneeling so their eyes were level. "There is something I want to give you — but you _must_ keep it safe. Do you understand? No one else must have it. Not your Nurse, not your friend the Crown Prince, not even the Emperor himself... Only you or your father can have it."

"What is it, Uncle?" Kaguya whispered back. Her eyes were wide; Yao had to give a short chuckle at the sincere expression she wore.

"It is this."

From his heavy sleeve Yao drew a large pouch. It was the size of his hand, made of violet brocade with Chinese good-luck symbols embroidered in silver. Yao undid the drawstring; the brocade slipped to reveal what looked to be a miniature urn. Carved entirely from white jade, there was no painting on it, no decor, yet Kaguya wore a look of awe as her uncle placed it into her small hands. It was tiny enough to fit there perfectly.

Kiku sucked in a sharp breath, frozen, shocked. It couldn't be—

"This is something very important, little Niece. Whatever happens, no one can have it. Will you keep it safe?"

Yao's tone was light but his face dead serious. Kaguya looked up at him, then at Kiku, before turning and giving a firm nod.

"Yes, Uncle, I will...!"

"Good." Yao smiled and leaned down to stroke her hair. "Perhaps it is only farewell for now, Ah Chang'e," he spoke softly. "So farewell."

Kaguya furrowed her brow and clutched Yao's hand tight. "I'll miss you," she said in a forlorn voice, and he smiled as he stood. Kiku met his eyes when he looked up.

"Brother." Yao gave a nod. "I will see you again."

A furrow appeared between Kiku's eyebrows — so many questions he had, so many whirling thoughts — but he bowed nonetheless. "Take care, Elder Brother," was all he said. "I shall see you out now."

"Hmm..." That was the extent of the response he got. With one last smile at Kaguya, Yao turned to call his attendants. They came hurrying forward at once, Yusheng placing a traveling robe over Yao's shoulders as they headed down the walkway. Kiku stepped over to Kaguya and lifted her up. She clutched the jade bottle within her robes; Kiku couldn't help but eye it before glancing aside.

An ox-pulled carriage was waiting for Yao outside the gates. The man paused before boarding it, however, and turned to his brother and niece. "Do not forget what I told you, Brother," he said. Kiku was silent for a long minute before finally nodding, just once.

"Elder Brother, what you gave Her Highness—" he started to ask in Chinese. But Yao cut him off with a gesture of one hand. A long white-fingered knife, slicing the air.

"All will be revealed in time," said Yao very simply. Then for a moment, he was motionless, standing there frowning at the gateway over Kiku's head. And finally: "Brother, Brother... Do you resent me so...?"

Kiku tensed, and Kaguya squirmed in his arms uncomfortably, casting him a confused look. Yao smiled what appeared like a bitter smile.

"Ha... Never mind. _Aiyaa_, you truly never change." He tipped his head back and sighed. "There is no need for the customary first-mile accompaniment. Go back, and take care of the Princess. You've less time with her than you may wish to believe..."

The two brothers looked at each other once more, and then Yao turned and got onto the carriage. His attendants let down the blind behind him and he vanished from sight.

Kiku and Kaguya watched the carriage move down the road. Once, Kaguya lifted her arm to wave, her sleeves a banner of color in the breeze. In the distance a hand extended from within the carriage to wave back. Then it was gone.

* * *

That night, Kiku dreamed he was walking down the veranda of an unfamiliar house. His footsteps echoed over the aged teakwood floorboards. To his right, sheer bamboo blinds billowed with the faint sound of chimes. To his left was darkness: the railing of the veranda had nothing on the other side but a quiet blackness, stretching off into eternity. A glance down revealed that powdery snow covered the ground in untouched drifts. It exuded a soft cold and glowed, as though reflecting or with inner light.

A glance up at the stars sprinkled above. In all his life, Kiku would have never imagined there could be this many stars in one night sky.

A lantern hanging from the roof corner gave off a surreal shine. Strange incense curled tendrils of smoke around him as he approached, encasing him in a heavy, sweet fragrance. He peered out but was unable to make out anything but a pinpoint of light, flickering like a far-off candle. The darkness around it rippled so that Kiku couldn't help the prodding sense that it was nothing but a mirage.

"_Many things I long to go out and search for, but now I must  
__stay within the reach of the sanctuary's sandalwood incense_."

It was a woman's voice, gentle as the _kin_'s resounding mid-note; Kiku turned to see a figure seated behind the bamboo blinds. Her face was of course hidden, but several layers of white-and-silver robes cascaded out onto the veranda, smelling of spices. Dainty stitches formed rabbits who danced across the gleaming brocade.

"_Why must the white-feathered swallow stay clinging to the bough  
__when there is yet a cyan-blue sky to fly like a cloud through?_"

he replied, and stepped forward to kneel beside the blind. The woman's shadow moved as she inclined her head; there was a fluttering noise when she opened a cypress-wood fan, reminiscent of wings taking flight.

"Ah,_ but once a cloud is given free reign as mist, there is nothing  
__to be found save for sorrow in returning to the lonely skies_.

Your words wish to comfort, but nothing can relieve me now from this pain," spoke the woman in a somber tone. Kiku frowned. It was an odd remark, even for a dream.

"What ails you then, Lady?" he asked, but there was no answer save for a great sigh. Great with grief, Kiku could sense, and a time of teardrop-stained sleeves of which he could not tell the length. Pity stirred in his chest for this strange woman.

A thought occurred to him. "Will she, too, grieve as you do now?" he asked in sudden earnesty. (Although just why he did, he had no idea.) Silence fell over them like a veil before the woman brushed it aside with a mournful question.

"How can one not wade in a sea of sorrow after ending up stranded, all alone...?"

Whatever reply he might have come up with never came. Instead, Kiku simply watched as a slim-fingered hand lifted up the blind to slide something towards him. Beneath her wrist, a black-lacquer tray held a single, palm-sized bottle.

An unexpected shudder ran down Kiku's back: he recognized the white-jade bottle Yao gave to Kaguya.

"Is there no other way?" he found himself asking, though he knew neither why nor exactly what he was asking. In any case, he was disappointed: the woman shook her head.

"_His Majesty sought the famed beauty and found naught but her  
__hairpin; far more painful to seek and find not even that much...!_" (1)

the lady said under her breath. Kiku sighed in frustration. Her words clearly made sense but only to a certain extent for him. There was more to her poems, but it was likewise obvious she would not say it outright.

So instead, he reached out to take the bottle up. The jade was cool against his fingers and he could sense liquid sloshing about inside. He ran a fingertip over the arc of the stopper, then looked at her.

"Even the immortals who live on the island of Hōrai may know of Time's cruelty — is that what you are saying?"

"Perhaps." No more than a whisper — and with a rustle of silk against bamboo, she passed him a square of cotton, on which rested a yellow chrysanthemum. The thousand-petals were heavy with dew. (2)

Without a word, Kiku took it from her hand. The dewdrops ran together, coalescing into a single sphere of liquid that hung from the bloom: it reflected the snow to look like a moonlit pearl.

Kiku closed his eyes, and the pearl fell.

"_Though every petal will fall from this bloom come its time,  
__I cannot mourn them as much as the one I will lose before it_."

He spoke the poem quietly, the perfume of the chrysanthemum brushing against his skin as he did. The woman reached out to take the flower from his hand; her robes whispered with the movement. Kiku watched as she moved his fingers over the bottle's stopper. Along the edges of his vision, the dream was wavering.

No, he mouthed to no one in particular. Let me stay for a little longer.

But already he was fading. The cloying smell of incense swirled around him, and the chill of snow began to dissipate. A temple bell seemed to sound behind his back, resonating. He could feel the woman's hands lift away from his and, faintly, recite one last poem behind the blind. However, now there was only the coldness of the jade stopper under his fingers; somehow he knew she was waiting for him to open it.

He never did. Kiku jolted awake in the dark, the lamp wick having burned out. Beside his head was a folded paper smoldering sunlight-yellow. A brief poem was written on it, in the narrow strokes of his calligraphy. Or did he write it? He could not remember.

The scent of incense lingered, and did not fade until a long time after.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

(1) In "The Song of Unending Sorrow" by Bai Juyi, the Emperor sends a seer to find his love Yang Guifei in the afterlife; the seer brings back to him an ornamented hairpin from her. The woman behind the blinds compares this with the pain of searching for a loved one but finding no trace of them at all.

(2) Chrysanthemum dew was believed to be an elixir for immortal youth. In the Heian era, the ninth day of the ninth month was the Chrysanthemum Festival, in which women soaked squares of cotton with chrysanthemum dew to rub onto their cheeks. It was believed that it would prevent wrinkling due to old age.


End file.
